


Inevitabilities

by chillafterdark



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 14:23:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/863024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chillafterdark/pseuds/chillafterdark





	Inevitabilities

While Chris is a terrible sleeper, his trouble has always started when he’s unconscious (sleep walking, sleep  _shopping_ , nightmares, you know, the good stuff), not when he’s trying to get there.  A long event day with a decent amount of alcohol and some good sex despite it is normally enough for sleep to find him quickly.  But Will’s on his back next to him and wide awake, and because that is severely not normal (Will sleeps on his side, always, regardless of whether he’s curled around Chris or not), Chris can’t sleep either despite being nearly miserably tired.

“You’re freaking out,” Chris says, his back to Will and curled towards his windows, like a plant always searching for light.  It’s definitely not a question.  How can it be when this moment has been so damn inevitable?

“Completely,” Will says quietly, his attention fixed on the ceiling. 

Chris stretches out his hand behind him and fishes around until he can grab hold of Will’s, but he doesn’t turn over.  He can’t.  Whatever this conversation is, he can’t make it real.

“I’d ask why, but….” Chris trails off.

Will snorts.  “Tonight was… well.”

Chris raises his eyebrows, not that Will can see.  “You were fine after the SAGs.”

“Yeah, because that felt like a freak event and this feels normal. This is  _not_ normal.”

“ _Oh-kay_ ,”  Chris says, because what the hell is he supposed to say to that?  Although he supposes he should be glad that whatever this is, it’s both short of full-fledged panic and nothing like that mess with Max.  They were both such children.  He still gets angry when he thinks about it, mainly because it’s better than sad.

“I mean, I’m fine.  Don’t freak out that I’m freaking out.  But. How the fuck does  _anyone_  do this?”

Chris smiles, and shifts a little bit, his shoulder not loving how he has twisted his body in order to avoid feeling like they are actually having this conversation.  Not that it stops him from talking.

“So the first time I went to New York – God, there’s this thing on the Internet, I guess you can look it up if you want.  Although don’t, because I look twelve, and that’s weird, but they were shooting like everything, right?  Because we were the story too, I guess, like we’d all gotten fucking discovered in diners, I don’t know.  And I’d never been to New York before, or in a hotel room by myself, or like, anything.  I mean, I was this kid who was never going to have anything I didn’t hunt down and murder in some back alley with my  _ambition_  –“

Will squeezes his hand at how resentful Chris sounds, not about circumstance, but about himself.  It’s a thing he does sometimes, and it pulls at Will in a way he doesn’t know how to talk about.

“And I just.  Well, I freaked out.  I mean, I did the little tour of the room.  Yay bed, yay furniture, yay hotel pens, yay Times Square.  Jesus, right?  Times fucking Square.  And I just  _freaked_. Chased the camera away very politely, locked myself in the room, and proceeded to sit on the windowsill and just. Cried, I guess. And then sort of hyperventilated.  And then just … stopped?  I couldn’t do anything.  I mean I sat there while the sun went down and didn’t turn on the lights.  Just sat there until someone came and got me for dinner so we could all go over the schedule for the thing, and then that was it.  I was fine.  I went up to my room, turned on the lights, got ready for bed,  _turned off the lights_ , and went to sleep.  It was like… taking a breath and knowing that what’s coming comes when you let it out.  I couldn’t hold it forever.”

“But why’d you freak out?” Will asks, so quiet and afraid of wherever this story is going.

“Because it was the end of something, as much as the beginning.”

Will sighs, and Chris feels him relax back into the bed a little bit as he lets the breath go.  He smiles.  In part because he’s never talked about this before and in part because he doesn’t ever intend to again.

“What made it okay?”

He shrugs then and finally turns over, joining Will on his back to study the ceiling.  “I don’t know.  I just sort of splashed some water on my face and growled at myself to get it together.” He shrugs. 

“Growled?”

“Growled.  Snarled.  I don’t know.  Something hostile that involved talking to myself in the bathroom mirror.  It was very dramatic.”

Will snorts.  “So that’s it then?”

“Mmmmhm.  Think you can do that?” Chris asks, trying not to wince at how much his voice doesn’t sound like his own, but a performance of some sort of calm and cheer he has never actually known.

Will smiles then, slowly.  In the dark, Chris can’t see it, but he can feel it, feel the way it sort of spreads and coils through his whole body before Will laughs, short and sharp.  “I think I already have,” he says with some wonder, and springs, rolling himself on top of Chris.  It should be romantic, but it’s actually just a bit silly as Will pins him to the bed, not that that doesn’t have its own charms.

Chris grins at him and whispers,  “Welcome to easy.”

 


End file.
